mythbuster
Player Valuation: £35m
Even Podolski is scoring goals ffs.
What the hell are you on about??? You mean the same Podolski with 112 caps for Germany and 46 goals for them? Yeah, he's crap him.
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Even Podolski is scoring goals ffs.
Dafuq lad! He's been poo for Arsenal, that's why!What the hell are you on about??? You mean the same Podolski with 112 caps for Germany and 46 goals for them? Yeah, he's crap him.
Dafuq lad! He's been poo for Arsenal, that's why! lol
Computer says no!No he hasn't he had a slow first season, but he started this season well, then got injured and has been good since he come back. I'd love him here.
Computer says no!
He'll be back at Cologne within the next two transfer windows, I'd bet my house on it.
Which supports the belief that Arsenal will probably get the points that they need.No he hasn't. he had a slow first season, but he started this season well, then got injured and has been good since he come back. I'd love him here.
Which supports the belief that Arsenal will probably get the points that they need.
LOL in that article!grandoldteam quoted in guardian blog:
http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/may/02/everton-manchester-city-goodison-park-subplots
great post mateWatched Everton for 40 years.
Home and away.
Rain, hail, sleet, snow, the whole shooting match.
I remember walking back to the car in 1977, aged 7, crying all the way back from Old Trafford after losing the cup final. Two weeks later same journey, only from Maine Rd, even more tears.
I remember Inchy scoring at Oxford, I was there, the start of the Kendall years. More tears, this time of joy, as we beat Watford to lift the FA cup. I cried with my dad, and my grandad, as we danced down Wembley Way.
Titles, Bayern home and away, Rotterdam, cup finals against them and United. I was at all of them.
Wimbledon last day. I cried again. Tears of unbounded relief that time. I still have the huge wedge of turf i wrenched out of the centre circle. Prized, with its own little border around it, my own piece of that hallowed pitch.
Leeds away, semi final against Spurs, outside the players entrance singing my heart out, scaring the life out of spurs, lifting our players...our heroes, onto greatness on the Elland Rd pitch.
Then Walter, then Moyes and now Bobby.
In all those 40 years, hundreds of games, thousands of miles, through the heartbreak and the euphoria, the tears of joy and despair, I have only ever asked for one thing.......my beloved heroes in royal blue to fight for every minute of every game and make me proud.
I've watched some beautiful football, magic woven by those warriors in blue. I've endured a fair old pile of sh1te during that time too.
But for once, just this one time, I want Everton, my Everton, to lose.
Call me fickle, call me odd, but don't dare say I don't love my club. Don't dare chastise me for wanting the soulless, classless, inbred shower of sh1te we are unfortunate to share a city with to fall flat on their smug, over bearing, patronising faces as Everton, my Everton, roll over and allow their title rivals to waltz off into the sunset with the much needed three points.
4th is gone.
fuk them, fuk their fans, fuk the redsh1te.
Watched Everton for 40 years.
Home and away.
Rain, hail, sleet, snow, the whole shooting match.
I remember walking back to the car in 1977, aged 7, crying all the way back from Old Trafford after losing the cup final. Two weeks later same journey, only from Maine Rd, even more tears.
I remember Inchy scoring at Oxford, I was there, the start of the Kendall years. More tears, this time of joy, as we beat Watford to lift the FA cup. I cried with my dad, and my grandad, as we danced down Wembley Way.
Titles, Bayern home and away, Rotterdam, cup finals against them and United. I was at all of them.
Wimbledon last day. I cried again. Tears of unbounded relief that time. I still have the huge wedge of turf i wrenched out of the centre circle. Prized, with its own little border around it, my own piece of that hallowed pitch.
Leeds away, semi final against Spurs, outside the players entrance singing my heart out, scaring the life out of spurs, lifting our players...our heroes, onto greatness on the Elland Rd pitch.
Then Walter, then Moyes and now Bobby.
In all those 40 years, hundreds of games, thousands of miles, through the heartbreak and the euphoria, the tears of joy and despair, I have only ever asked for one thing.......my beloved heroes in royal blue to fight for every minute of every game and make me proud.
I've watched some beautiful football, magic woven by those warriors in blue. I've endured a fair old pile of sh1te during that time too.
But for once, just this one time, I want Everton, my Everton, to lose.
Call me fickle, call me odd, but don't dare say I don't love my club. Don't dare chastise me for wanting the soulless, classless, inbred shower of sh1te we are unfortunate to share a city with to fall flat on their smug, over bearing, patronising faces as Everton, my Everton, roll over and allow their title rivals to waltz off into the sunset with the much needed three points.
4th is gone.
fuk them, fuk their fans, fuk the redsh1te.